But she also knew that the root of their issues remained elusive, just beyond her ability to grasp. The misunderstandings had exposed mistrust, and that made her uncomfortable. Her working relationship with Craig had forged a strong bond between them. He’d proven himself to her through the job, and it hadn’t been until after the case where she first worked plain-clothes, the case where she first met Tain and Craig, that she realized just how much she’d come to depend on Craig.
She’d thought it would be hard to find her feet on a big investigation, working with other officers who had more experience. Instead, what had been brutal was when it ended and they’d all been reassigned. Tain had been disciplined and they’d both been transferred out to different detachments, and she had felt the loss of her partners deeply. She’d relied on them more than she’d admitted to herself at the time, and had to learn to stand on her own in her new assignment.
And then they’d all been transferred to the Tri-Cities and ended up working together again.
It wasn’t as simple for her and Craig now that they weren’t just colleagues. Their relationship made what happened to them on the job more personal. She couldn’t be objective about his assignment or his willingness to investigate his own father. The doubts and concerns she had would have been the same for any other cop, but it was hard to extract the emotion when the person you were worried about was someone you loved.
There was no perfect situation waiting for her at home. A cold fear was barely being held at bay waiting to be unleashed if Craig wasn’t at the house. She didn’t know what that would mean for them, and she didn’t think she had the strength to look for him. Another part of her was tired and hoped he’d be asleep so that they wouldn’t have to fight. With all the tension between herself and Zidani over the past few months, and the spats between herself and Tain over the last few days, she was desperate to sort things out.
The problem was, she knew she couldn’t fix things on her own.
When she pulled in the driveway she could see dim lights on inside. She knew as soon as she opened the door that Craig was there, because she could smell the food.
He came into the hall as she slid off her coat. “You came home.”
She opened the closet and reached for a hanger. “Zidani has a second shift monitoring the kidnapping angle.”
His voice was quiet. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
Ashlyn pulled her shoe off and dropped it on the closet floor, but said nothing.
Craig exhaled. “It’s pretty late.”
“You know this is a crazy case.” She dropped the other shoe and slid the closet door shut, still not trusting herself to look at him.
“Tain called here looking for you hours ago.”
Her head snapped up then. “Why? Did he have a lead?” She reached in her bag for her cell phone. It was still on, fully charged. “You could have called me.”
“So it’s my fault that I didn’t know where you were and you didn’t call to tell me?”
“We’re not going to get anywhere blaming each other.”
“Then why don’t you tell me where you were?”
“I needed some time to clear my head before I came home.”
“Why?”
“Because of this. I knew if you were here we’d end up having another argument.”
“If I was here? Where else would I be?” He disappeared into the kitchen, and she walked down the hall.
“You didn’t come home the other night.”
Craig poked a fork in the contents of a pot and turned off the burner. “So that’s your excuse to justify doing whatever you want now?”
“Where’d you go?”
Part of her dreaded what he’d say. It wasn’t even the question that was weighing on her mind, but she couldn’t ask that one. She wasn’t sure she could bear to face the answer.
“You first,” he said.
“I needed to clear my head.”
“Yeah, I can smell how you cleared it from here.”
Ashlyn felt her cheeks burn as she glared at him. “I wasn’t drinking. And you’re one to talk.” There was a half-empty bottle of wine on the counter.
“Sure, you smell like a brewery, but you never touched a drop.”
“Craig, look.” There was a knock at the door, but she ignored it. “I know you were upset—”
“Upset?” He pushed his way past her, moved down the hall and opened the door, but didn’t stop to greet their guest. Craig turned around and walked back to the kitchen. “Upset would be a bit of an understatement, Ash. Don’t you think I had the right to be angry?”
Tain shut the door. From where Ashlyn stood in the hallway, outside the entrance to the kitchen, she could see both of them, depending on which way she turned. She faced her work partner. “Did something come up on the case?”
“Craig called.” Tain glanced at the entry to the kitchen. “You hadn’t come home and he was worried.”
She turned to look at Craig. He was leaning against the counter, fingers within reach of a wineglass. “You call around checking up on me, but don’t even try my cell phone? I don’t believe this.”
“Well, at least I cared enough to phone. Now you want to know where I went the other night, but you didn’t call me then, did you?”
“You left your cell phone here. How the hell was I supposed to call you? Don’t you dare turn this around as though it’s my fault.”
“No, it’s all my fault, isn’t it? I’m late and I think you’ve gone home, but because I talk to that reporter I must have been up to something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You want to know what bothered me most? Do you? When you came home you didn’t even come looking for me. You went straight to the living room, back to your case files.”
“You’ve never been distracted by a case? And you know this is personal. There’s a lawsuit against my dad over this investigation.”
“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t even be involved with it. The way you were talking made it sound like you were convinced your dad did something wrong. You’re way too close to this to be objective. Can’t you see what you’re doing? You’ve been on light duty for months because the bosses thought you let your feelings cloud your judgment and you’re proving them right.”
“Zidani’s the one who ordered me to investigate. You think anyone else cares about finding the truth? If my dad did something wrong, I’ll be the first to stand up and say so.”
“And you’ll be back on the streets while his career is ruined.”
“If that happens, he did it to himself. It isn’t my fault. Besides, I may have evidence that will help dig him out of this mess.”
“And people will really trust that. ‘Steve Daly accused of wrongdoing, but don’t worry, his son says he’s clean.’ How can you honestly think anyone will take you seriously? You’re only making things worse.”
“No. I haven’t done anything. Whatever happened on this case, it had nothing to do with me. All I’m doing is making sure it was done right. If something bad comes out of it, it’s on Dad, it’s on his partner, and it’s on the department.”
“And what about your dad? What if you’re right, and you get the proof that he’s innocent. You think he’s going to just pat you on the back and say he knew you were just doing your job?” she said. “You doubt him. Can’t you imagine what it would be like to have a son doubt you, how much it would hurt? Hasn’t he earned your trust and your support?” Ashlyn paused. When Craig remained silent she continued. “You accused Zidani of being after his job months ago, and now he hands you a knife to stick in your own father’s back and you’re willing to do it?”
“You don’t understand.”
“You’re right about that. I don’t.”
Craig grabbed the wineglass, drained it, and put it back on the counter. “There’s chicken in the oven.” He started down the hall, toward the stairs. “I have to pack.”
The cold fear inside her spread through her body. “Wait—”
He stopped and looked at her. There was a hardness in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. “I have to go to Kelowna to question somebody. I leave in the morning.”
His footsteps were heavy on the stairs. Once she heard the bedroom door shut she looked at Tain and choked down the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll go. Let you two talk.”
“No.” She put up her hand to stop him. “Have you eaten?”
He shook his head. Ashlyn walked down the hall to the dining room and turned on the light. She stopped cold.
The table was covered with the crime-scene photos and files. She took a step forward and looked at one of the pictures. Hope Harrington’s body, beaten so badly what little skin was left untouched was covered in blood. Her stomach twisted violently and she stood still, willing the nausea to pass.
“Ash—”
She covered her mouth and ran to the bathroom. There was so little in her stomach that it wasn’t long before she was sure the worst was over, but she still shook a bit as she stood. Once she rinsed her mouth, she flushed the toilet and opened the door.
Tain was tucking the last photo into a folder. He looked up as she slowly walked back to the table. “I guess this means dinner’s off?”
“You should eat something.”
“So should you. Sit. I’ll get you a plate.” He put up his hand. “Don’t argue.”
When he returned he had two plates and utensils. “Do you want a glass of wine?”
“No. But help yourself.”
He left and when he came back he had two glasses of water.
While Tain ate she poked at the food and finally tried a bit of chicken.
“How’s your stomach?” he asked.
Ashlyn reached for the water. “Seems okay.”
“That’s good. Go slow, though. Just in case.”
She swallowed and set the glass down. “Craig said you’d called at first.”
“I just wanted to touch base. Smythe got in my face after you left. I had a chance to talk to Christopher, though.”
“Really?” She knew the look on Tain’s face and wasn’t about to get her hopes up. “How’d you manage that?”
“Luck. He’s completely shut off. I told him we knew Shannon didn’t kill Jeffrey.”
“How’d he respond?”
“He was startled, but in control enough not to say much. I tried to persuade him to help us find her, but he completely shut down.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want us to find her.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well”—Ashlyn reached for her water again and took another drink—“we have the statement from the neighbor, which supports the idea that there’s been long-term abuse at the Reimer house. Maybe Christopher wants her to stay away. You know what Mrs. Pratt said, about Jeffrey clinging to his sister and crying that morning, then chasing her down the road. Shannon’s had enough, decides to run away, which is what her friends tell us as well. Somehow Jeffrey finds out and follows her. Christopher goes after them. Maybe he’s after Jeffrey, not realizing Shannon’s picked her little brother up. The parents pursue them. Maybe they catch them. Jeffrey ends up dead, Shannon injured and on the run.” She shrugged. “The doctor said she’d been beaten. Maybe she tried to protect Jeffrey and couldn’t save him. Christopher thinks if his sister comes home his parents will finish the job.”
“But why lie and tell us she did it?”
“Don’t abused kids often lie to protect their abusers?”
“Are you asking me as a person or as a cop?”
He stared at her for a moment, until she looked at her plate. “Tain, I never—”
He put his hand over hers. “It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t. I have no right to pry.”
“Getting back to your question”—he let go of her hand—“a lot of kids do lie to protect their abusers. Especially parents. They feel if the parent is taken away it will destabilize their life, and they’re conflicted by a sense of obligation. They’re supposed to love their parents. Christopher’s eleven. Old enough to know things aren’t right and old enough to be afraid of what will happen to him if his parents go to jail.”
“Do you really think he’d rather live with his parents if he knows they killed his brother? Wouldn’t he be in constant fear?”
“Maybe he thinks he can take care of himself. After all, the neighbor said he was the one who fought back.”
“And if Shannon knows the police think she killed Jeffrey, it’s one sure way to keep her from coming home, so in a weird way, Christopher’s protecting her.” Ashlyn shook her head. “This whole case is such a mess.”
“You didn’t learn anything promising?”
“Actually, I did.” She gave him a quick recap of what Sims had discovered about Richard Reimer’s businesses. “I’ll chase it down tomorrow.”
“You sure you wouldn’t rather keep an eye on Luke Geller?”
“I think I’d be too tempted to throttle him.”
Tain nodded and stood. She followed him to the kitchen with her plate and glass.
He set his dishes in the sink. “Ash—”
“I’ll be okay.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded and forced a smile as she put her dishes on the counter. “We have to deal with this sooner or later.”
He walked to the door and she followed. After he put his shoes on he said, “Give me a call. Let me know what you find out tomorrow.”
“I will.” Ashlyn shut the door behind him. There was silence from upstairs. She returned to the kitchen to rinse the dishes and put the food away. Just another way of avoiding the real problems in her life. Craig would leave in the morning and be gone for at least one night.
She closed the refrigerator and stopped to look at one of the photos of them together. She could cover the physical distance between them in half a minute, but what would it take to overcome the uncertainty she now carried? Whoever said time healed all wounds didn’t know what they were talking about. Time let infections take hold. Wounds festered. In the few days since their argument the tension had distorted her judgment. The threads of doubt were undermining the strength of her convictions about the person Craig was, about their relationship and their future, and she knew if they didn’t try to sort things out before he left it would only make it harder to work through the issues.
Fighting with him was just so exhausting.
Another photo, of her in a kayak just before they went on a camping trip in September. Craig had said that was one of the best things about her, she never stood still.
He’d said that was why she’d been able to save his life. She could process a situation in a moment, make a choice and act on her decision automatically. Maybe that was the root of their current problems: too much thinking.
She went into the pantry off the kitchen and pulled out a storage bin. Once she’d removed the items she was after, she left a few of them in the downstairs hall closet and carried the rest upstairs.
When she reached the bedroom she paused. Should she knock? It seemed ludicrous that something that would never have been a consideration for her before now weighed on her mind. She opened the door.
Craig stood beside the bed as he folded a shirt and placed it in his carry-on suitcase.
“You’ll need these.” Ashlyn walked over to him and set the scarf and gloves down. “I left your boots and coat downstairs.”
He zipped up the suitcase but didn’t look at her. “Thanks.”
She watched him pick up the case and leave the room. His response had sounded choked and forced. Ashlyn followed him downstairs.
When she reached the landing he glanced at her as the color crept up from his neck into his face. Everything he needed was together: suitcase, boots, coat, keys.
He straightened up but still didn’t look directly at her. “It’s not the same.”
“I know.”
Craig turned and walked to the dining room, then stopped.
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“Everything’s in the box,” she said as she walked down the hall toward him.
He grabbed the box from the floor and put it on the table. “Everything’s messed up,” he muttered as he started to sort through the files. “Couldn’t you just leave it?”
Within minutes he had the files emptied and the photographs and reports reorganized. Craig had always kept the house neat and tidy, but she’d never seen him so anal about case files before. Instead of arguing about it or blaming Tain, she leaned back against the doorjamb and murmured, “I’m sorry.”
He stuck the folders in the box and stood still. “Do you think I was wrong?”
The hesitation was unavoidable. Was he talking about walking out or staying on the case?
Craig turned then and looked at her. “You saw these photos.”
She nodded.
“How hard do you have to grab someone before you bruise them?” He walked over to her. “And if they’re wearing a coat?”
“I told you I took care of it.”
“How could you expect me to just let it go? The whole thing was my fault. If I hadn’t been late, if I’d called, if I hadn’t been sidetracked by that reporter, none of this would have happened.”
“Look, if you want to beat yourself up over this, I can’t stop you. But Byron Smythe made his own choices. When he grabbed me I kicked him so hard I think I dislocated his knee.”
Craig’s face was tight. “Guys like him need to be taught a lesson.”
“So you tracked him down and gave him a taste of his own medicine?”
“No. I’m just saying—” He stopped and turned back to the table, hands on the box.
She looked at him. What are you saying? That’s what she wanted to ask. “Bruises, a sprained wrist. Smythe was worked over pretty good.”
“He deserved it.”
“Craig, you don’t mean that.”
He grabbed the box off the table and brushed past her without meeting her gaze. Once the box of files was put down beside his suitcase, Craig turned and walked back to her. He reached for her arm and pulled up her shirtsleeve. “Look what he did to you.”
The Frailty of Flesh Page 20